Someone actually commented on my blog.
This is a breakthrough on two levels, never mind the fact that both comments were critical.
1. Someone has actually read the blog; this is news to me.
2. It means that the fact that two people stumbled across my blog (probably by accident) means that now I’ve got a captive audience; that is, a host of lost internet ramblers who somehow find my blog between checking facebook and viewing highly erotic french lithographs.
This particularly blog is another segue between my last one and what I intend to post in the future. It’s London Fashion Week, and as always, I’ll be off with my godmother next week to go and take in the sights, the sounds, the eating disorders and write a cracking review in the process.
Secondly, I trekked up and down the King’s Road in order to document the first of my London Underground guides, Sloane Square. I picked this station as I haven’t been there in a while, but it’s where my parents used to take me a lot when I was but a small child.
Lastly, I’ve been pondering objectivity and subjectivity. So much of the media is obsessed with objectivity it sickens me. A blog I follow opened a post with “We journalists make it a point to know very little about an extremely wide variety of topics; this is how we stay objective.” Now I’m not sure if this reflects her particular view, but it got me thinking anyhow. Hunter S Thompson once remarked that “Objective journalism is one of the main reasons American politics has been allowed to be so corrupt for so long. You can’t be objective about Nixon.” He’s got a point. When things like civil liberties are concerned, why shouldn’t we be able to inject our writing with vitriol to go against the grain? Reporting a story objectively, simply laying out the facts, does little to uncover any political agenda between the lines.
I’ve yet to decide if I’m actually any good at writing. If you’re reading this, do please tell me if you’d rather wipe your arse with a cactus than pore through the text displayed on your humming monitor. I don’t mind if you disagree with what I’m writing, it’s just if it turns out I’ve got the literary ability of Jade Goody (ooh, topical and risqué…) then I’d rather quit while I’m ahead and get stuck into another doomed profession like banking.